


Made For You

by Mare9548



Series: A Lion Looking (Adoringly) At The Sun And Stars [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Jaime x Brienne Fic Exchange 2020, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25770847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mare9548/pseuds/Mare9548
Summary: Despite his reluctance to get married, Jaime Lannister is having dinner with his future wife tonight. Quite a surprise he gets when he meets the woman that his father has chosen for him.Piece written for Jaime x Brienne Fic Exchange 2020
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: A Lion Looking (Adoringly) At The Sun And Stars [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618543
Comments: 86
Kudos: 266
Collections: Jaime x Brienne Fic Exchange 2020





	1. Blue Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ddagent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/gifts).



> The prompter asked for alternative universe, arranged marriage, and/or blue eyes.
> 
> Kelly,  
> I hope you'll be pleased to know that I managed to mash all up in one story. My deepest desire is that you (and everyone else who read this) enjoy it immensely.

Jaime expels a sigh loaded with bitter disappointment as he digs into his pocket for his phone, wanting to check the time. An expletive escapes through his lips. To his vexation, he remained longer than he should have at the Dragonpit Museum of Ancient History. His father will kill him for being late to the wretched dinner tonight where Jaime is meeting for the first time his future wife.

His protest to Tywin for having a marriage arranged in his name was wasted breath. "Seven hells, we're not in the age of Dragons anymore, dad! I can find my own wife," Jaime had said. 

Not that he is eager to get one in truth. After discovering that his last girlfriend cheated on him with at least three different guys, Jaime decided to take himself out of the relationship market for the time being. Tywin cares nothing about that. His father squashed his argument, reminding him of the duty Jaime has to the family: to take control of Lannister Finance Strategy Group one day, have an advantageous marriage, and father children to continue their legacy. 

So here he is, stomping out of the museum without having glimpsed what he came to see. It wasn't an item, but a person. 

Some time ago, Jaime visited the museum when they were having an exhibition of the weaponry from the War of the Five Kings ages. He expected to see ancient armors and swords encased in glass. To his surprise, a museum's curator demonstrated her mastery with a sword: the Oathkeeper. The Valyrian steel, beautiful and rare, was enough to catch his initial attention, yet the skill with which the woman wielded the blade possessed a greater pull. In short, it was astonishing. For a moment, he believed her to be the embodiment of The Warrior. He studied her every move. Despite her great height, being as tall as him, she was graceful and powerful, like a dancer. She could've been a knight of old brought to the present.

Her homely face could have made her forgettable if it wasn't for her expressive, deep blue eyes. They were like sparkling gems, telegraphing how much she was enjoying having the sword in her hands. He had never seen eyes like hers, nor the genuine passion they held. Most of all, he could see innocence in those ponds of sapphire blue.

That's something unusual to find these days. Something Jaime secretly values.

He's unable to say what exactly captivated him that day the most, luring him back to the place again and again. It might have not been Oathkeeper because when the exhibit ended and the sword was put away, he came back nonetheless. Without meaning to —or perhaps he did— Jaime learned that the woman has little performances once or twice a week, either showing an ancient weapon or telling old war stories, the kind of tales that you seldom find in a history book.

He feels like a craven. Jaime hasn't mustered the courage to approach the woman, much less to ask her name. He calls her Blue Eyes in his head. He stands in the back of the gallery and watches whatever item she's showing or listens attentively to the stories of Ser Duncan The Tall or The Long Night. Oddly enough, watching her from afar brings a sense of peace that he never knew before.

That's why he had gone to the museum this evening, seeking the serenity that he needs to face the dinner. It's his luck that Blue Eyes skipped work today.

An hour later, he reaches the penthouse of Maegor's Holdfast, a residential complex within a small and overly exclusive district in the city: the Red Keep. Only the rich and famous can afford to live in such a luxurious place. So, of course, Tywin as the wealthiest man in Westeros must have the best. 

As Jaime walks in on the terrace where Tywin is entertaining his guests, his father's unmerciful gaze shoots across in his direction with the heat of Dragonfire. If looks could kill, he'd be a pile of ashes by now.

_ Yes, you're disappointed in me because I'm late, old man _ , _ I know. _

"Good evening," he says instead of his thoughts. "My sincere apologies for my lateness."

"Ah, here he is," Tywin announces with a tone that means to be cheerful, but Jaime doubts anyone but him is detecting the underlying fake tone. "Selwyn, Brienne, may I present my son, Jaime? Son, meet Selwyn Tarth and his daughter."

A straw-blond man gets up from his seat and turns to him. Jaime shakes hands with Mr. Tarth, impressed by the man's size. Jaime hardly can be dubbed as a short man but Selwyn has at least 5 inches on him, if not more. Also, he's twice as thick as Jaime's athletic physique.

"Nice to meet you, Jaime. Your father has only good things to say about you."

_ And I'm sure he gets a monster of indigestion just for saying them. _

"A pleasure."

"And this is my girl, Brienne."

Jaime had been too distracted with Selwyn's imposing presence to notice his daughter. Silly of him, really. The  _ girl _ , as Mr. Tarth called her, is an inch or two  _ taller _ than Jaime. Not just that, but she also turns out to be no other than Blue Eyes!

Jaime's jaw drops to the floor, hardly believing that she's in front of him.  _ Is she here or am I dreaming? _ Uncharacteristically words fail him.

"You," she breathes questioningly, recognition igniting in her beautiful eyes.

"Do you know each other?"

Tywin's voice breaks through Jaime's stupor. He blinks and swallows before satisfying the old men's curiosity, both Tywin and Selwyn have matching raised-eyebrow looks, and their eyes swing back and forth between their children. Jaime hopes that his nonchalant tone is enough to convey an indifference that he doesn't feel, "Not really, no. I've gone to the History Museum once or twice and we might've crossed a look."

Belatedly, he realizes that Blue Eyes— Brienne can deny his words. If her recognition is of any indication, his frequent presence at the museum didn't go unnoticed as much as he'd like. An unsettling sensation grows in him and shame washes over him. Could she think he's a stalker or some freak? He hopes not.

"Ah, yes, yes. My Brienne is one of its curators. The best, I say," Selwyn brags, his chest puffed out. 

"Dad!" Brienne hisses while her face flushes pink.

"It's true," he says, unrepentant.

"I'm delighted to meet face to face, Brienne. Finally."  _ Yes, if I hadn't been such a coward before. _

They shake hands. She looks at him in a way he cannot interpret. He's saved from trying to figure out what it means by one of the service staff, announcing that the dinner is ready.

During the meal, Tywin and Selwyn are who carry the conversation on, remarking on the advantage of the coming union between the two families. Jaime half-listens how being married to Brienne will benefit the businesses since LFSG will finance the expansion of Sapphire Island Hotels And Spa, the Tarth family corporation. The feeling of being a mere pawn in his father's business schemes is not new to Jaime. With one look across the table, it's obvious to him that, for Brienne, it is. 

His heart aches with sympathy for her.

He seems unable to stop watching her. While he engages in the conversation from time to time, prattling on about whatever his father has drilled into him for years about business, Jaime's eyes never leave her. On the occasions in which her eyes catch his, Brienne's flush makes an appearance. Jaime finds himself imagining in what other circumstances, more intimate ones, he could bring the colors to her face.

_ Huh! That's weird _ . Not many women had elicited sexual thoughts in him for months. Not since finding his girlfriend with another man in his bed when he came back early from a business trip. Now, though, his mind can't help itself and his body responds. Jaime shifts in the chair, feeling his crotch bulging. 

Being honest, no one can call Brienne a beautiful woman in the conventional sense. Her freckled features are broad and coarse, her teeth are in need of serious orthodontic work, her mouth is too large, her lips so thick they seem swollen, and her nose is crooked.

Yet, there's something about her that is appealing to Jaime. Maybe because despite her evident shyness, revealing itself constantly in flushed cheeks, Brienne has a strong character. She's firm with her ideas and lets no one dismiss them. One of the most amusing moments of the evening is without a doubt when she rules out Tywin's suggestions for locations for new hotels.

"Pardon me, Mr. Lannister, but I have to disagree. Taking our brand to the most popular vacation spots in the Summer Islands is a mistake. Wasting money to build a facility in a place where the competition is fierce seems illogical to me."

"But it wouldn't be any cheap inn, child, it'd be a world's class hotel."

"Which only one-percenters could afford? That's another mistake. I don't know if you're aware of this, Mr. Lannister, but Sapphire Island Hotels strive for providing quality accommodations at fair prices. It might not be wise to change our signature company strategy now."

"You should listen to her, Tywin. Brienne loves her history, but she has a keen mind for business too. None of her advice has led me astray yet."

"Then what would you do?" Jaime asks her.

Again, she gives him that indecipherable look of hers. What is she hiding behind it? Jaime discovers himself eager to find out.

"If what you and Mr. Lannister are looking for a way to stand out in the crowd, offer what nobody else does, I'd suggest a chain of relatively small lodgings in locations of ancient history."

"That's not a novelty," Tywin argues. "What's the difference between that and what a million other hotels in the Riverlands or the North do?"

"That it wouldn't be a half-a-day excursion with a tour guy that knows only half of the history at best. It could be a series of grand tours across the country accompanied by qualified personnel to both the well-known and less-known places where Westorosi history was shaped. It could include participation in battle re-enactments and such. I'm sure that a family like yours would appreciate people knowing the real facts of your ancestors…" Brienne cuts her eyes to Jaime, "…like your namesake. It's regretful how many people still think ill about Goldenhand the Just when there's vast evidence of his honor and bravery."

Returning her gaze to Tywin, Brienne continues, "Besides, in an endeavor of this nature, the target gets more exclusive, therefore prices can be less fair, which I believe you'd approve, Mr. Lannister."

Jaime can't stop a smug grin from spreading on his face. He drops his cutlery and observes pointedly at his father. Brienne has him good. Tywin's expression is priceless. He schools it soon, though. 

"It seems you've thought about this thoroughly, Brienne," Tywin says.

"I have."

"Well, if it is for me, I'd approve the funds right away," Jaime cuts in. "It seems we share the same interests. I love history too and I'd love to be in a re-enactment. Maybe I'd borrow Widow's Wail from Casterly Rock's armory."

Tywin huffs in annoyance.

Jaime ignores him and keeps talking, "Wouldn't it be great to reunite it with Oathkeeper?"

Brienne's eyes shine with excitement. "It would. I, in the name of the museum, have tried, in fact."

Jaime knits his eyebrows. "Why hasn't it happened yet?"

Brienne gives a quick side-glance to Tywin. "The negotiations for its loan come to an impasse every time."

"Surely, Miss Tarth, you of all people know how delicate ancient artifacts can be. Could you blame me for wanting to protect my family's heirlooms?"

"If it happens to anybody else borrowing it, I wouldn't, Mr. Lannister, but I assure you that whatever you lend to the museum would be treated with the utmost care. And regarding Widow's Wail in specific, I personally guarantee its care, since it's my job."

"I have donated and lent many objects from Evenfall Hall to them even before Brienne started working at the museum and I can attest to their care, Tywin. In fact, they restored some items for me."

"I'm sure they have," Tywin conciliatorily, then he hastens to change the subject. Jaime knows that his father hates to lose and, even if he detests it, he'd rather take a dignified retreat before acknowledging defeat.

  
  



	2. Attraction Defies Logic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne make a deal.

"Thank you," Jaime says, standing by the railing of the terrace next to Brienne. 

They're alone since their fathers went hiding in Tywin's office after dinner on the excuse of discussing more details of the coming business deal. In reality, it's a poorly veiled attempt to leave them alone, granting an opportunity for them to know each other better. To tell the truth, Jaime can't complain; he's exempt from a tedious conversation around business and he gets to be in the company of Brienne.

She tears her eyes from the night sight of the city expanding below them. Lights glimmer for miles, giving the misleading impression of a peaceful city of the chaotic King's Landing. Her brow is knitted with confusion when she looks at him. "What for?"

Jaime smiles. "For how you handled my father during dinner. There are only a few people brave enough to stand up to him. Not everybody can say they've done that and came on top. Unscathed, no less. I'm impressed."

She huffs. "Well, I wasn't going to let him take over everything my dad has built all these years."

"Nor should you. My father has a cold-blooded, ruthless way to tackle business that works most of the time, but he forgets that times change and it's okay to bring up to date some strategies; that he should listen to his clients more often." 

Jaime steps closer to her, perhaps a little closer than he should but now after having met her, the magnetism Brienne has always held over Jaime at a distance seems to have intensified. His hands itch to touch her. Refraining to do so is hard but he won't make advances on her until he knows she's willing to this engagement. Funny like he has changed his mind about it in a couple of hours. This afternoon he was dreading the commitment, and now, well, maybe it won't be so bad to get married after all.

"Your idea for Sapphire Island's historical tours, providing lodging, accurate tour guiding, and extra activities is pretty great."

At his praise, Brienne blushes, and looks at Jaime sheepishly when says, "I must confess that I have an ulterior motive that prompted that idea."

"Oooh, do tell." 

"Despite the robust health he possesses, my father is getting older. As his only heir, I know I'll have to take control of the business in the future; that means the end of my career in the museum."

"So, you want to bring some museum work with you when you leave the place for good. Clever."

"Thanks," she mutters. If possible, Brienne's cheeks get even redder as she looks away. _She seems to be uncomfortable with praises_. The thought troubles Jaime. It's as if she didn't get enough of those. _Well, I certainly can improve that._

"Your eyes are beautiful," he blurts out.

She whips her head back to him. "What?"

"Your eyes, they're astonishing. I've never seen a pair like yours. So blue, so soulful."

And indeed, they are. Jaime feels losing himself in her sapphire pools, an alluring entrance to her soul. For a moment, Jaime's world shrinks and Brienne is all that he can see. His eyes drop to her lips, wide and fleshy. Succulent. A strong urge to kiss her assaults him.

"You jest."

Her words burst the bubble he is in and bring Jaime back to reality with a jarring force. Uncertainty makes him step back.

"Excuse me?"

"You mock me," she says. "Or worse, you're pitying me. I can live without either. I'm aware of my unsightly visage and it's unnecessary for you to woo me into this marriage. I gave my word to my father that I'd do it. Fake compliments on your part are wasted breath. I have heard them all before from men like you, so I know you don't mean them."

 **_Fake_ ** _compliments?_

Jaime isn't sure what bothers him the most: the matter-of-factly tone Brienne uses that betrays her bad past with men or the fact that she judges him as a superficial man even before knowing him truly. He resorts to his signature fake chuckle and deceiving grin to hide his true feelings. He is simultaneously sympathetic and insulted.

"If you knew me, you'd know that I'm hardly the type of man to dish out compliments that aren't deserved. I meant what I said. Your eyes are gorgeous. But hey, if you don't want me to remark on it, fine. My lips are zipped. Would you like me to list your flaws instead? Perhaps that's what you're used to hearing from the losers you've hung out with."

She glares at him. 

Undaunted, he continues, "I wasn't sure what I expected from you when I came here this evening but, definitely, it wasn't the stubborn, judgmental wench I have before me. It doesn't become you."

"What do you mean that you didn't know what to expect of me?" Knitted brows join her disapproving stare. "You've been going to the museum for a while now. You knew what I look like."

 _I was wondering when my visits to Dragonpit would come up._ He sighs inwardly.

"It never crossed my mind that the woman I'd met tonight would be you, okay," he tells her truthfully. "When my father named you as my future wife, I didn't make the connection, simply because I never caught your name at the museum. It surprised me to find you here and, judging for _your_ reaction, you didn't know it was me who you'd met tonight either."

A veil of deeper confusion drapes over her face. "So, you weren't going to the museum to…" she trails off.

"To… what?"

"Never mind," Brienne shrugs, and her cheeks turn a fine example of Lannister red. Jaime frowns in perplexity and studies her face, trying to figure out what's on her mind. 

"But I do mind," he argues. "What did you think I was doing visiting the museum? Did you think I was what… studying my prey? That I knew my father would arrange our marriage?"

Jaime's visits to the museum started months before Tywin told him about the engagement.

She says nothing which on itself is an answer enough.

"Gods, no!" Jaime steps closer to her and places his hands on her arms. He can't resist the temptation to skim his fingers up to her shoulders and down to her elbows in what he hopes is a reassuring caress. He's pleased that she doesn't reject him. "Believe me, that ploy is all his. I never told him I dropped by the museum. As you can guess, my father is a man used to getting what he wants without regard to everyone else's wishes. He wants me married with children at any cost, and he's not averse to using business deals to accomplish that. I'm sorry that you were dragged into this, but if I'm honest, I'm happy that it's you and not some vapid trophy wife with the brain capacity of an aged flea."

Jaime grins at the expression on Brienne's face. She looks at Jaime as he's just sprouted a second head. 

"I know it'll be an indescribable honor for you to have me as your husband but don't let that go to your head," he warns her with a teasing lilt in his voice. Brienne scowls, less than impressed with his charms. "And don't think I went to the museum for _you,_ a nameless curator, either. To listen to all the unusual tidbits of history that _you_ so enjoy narrating, neither to admire _your_ dexterity with a sword. No, wench. All the times I swung by Dragonpit had _nothing_ to do with that. At. All."

"Did you really go there because of that? For… _me?"_ Brienne shakes her head as if with the effort understanding will come to her. Utter disbelief colors her voice. Then her face becomes stone while she dryly adds, "And don't call me wench. My name is Brienne."

Maybe he shouldn't, yet it's too tempting the opportunity to tease her. He likes the mesmerizing fire that ignites in her eyes when Brienne gets worked-up. "Yeah, I know that's your name, _Wench._ But haven't you been listening to me?" I told you, I didn't go for any of those reasons, nor to look at those astonishing eyes of yours either."

"That makes no sense at all."

"Why not?" an honest question.

She opens her mouth but then closes it shut, pressing her lips in a thin line. Her entire body is tense, She clamps up and refuses to answer.

"You don't believe me, why? Fool of me to think I was inconspicuous in my visits, obviously not, so you must've noticed that I was there almost every Wednesday and Saturday."

"I did notice."

"If I was there to 'sweeten' you up as you say, wouldn't have been logical for me to try to talk to you, to charm you?"

"If I were like any other person, it would, but not for me."

There it is again that self-deprecating tone in her voice he had heard earlier, which he doesn't like.

"I know I'm ugly, Jaime. Men seldom come to me, especially when beautiful girls like Margaery or Sansa are around."

"Who?"

"Please!" Brienne scoffs and rolls her eyes. "I'm sure you have seen my junior assistants during my presentations."

Jaime barely spares a look to anyone but Brienne when he's at the museum. Her presence is a magnet for his attention and everything and everyone else around him simply fades away. It's not a surprise that Jaime needs to wrack his brain to vaguely remember a pair of young women, helping Brienne from time to time. They are pretty, sure, but they looked like 12-year-olds to him. "There's a redhead…" he trails off, unsure.

"That's Sansa."

"Sure, and yet, I barely remember her. Do you know what I remember in the smallest details? You. The way you talk and move; how your eyes brighten when kids get excited as you tell the stories, or when you're showing off a sword; I love when you shut the mouth of idiots that pretend to know more than you do."

"You do?"

"Yes! Believe me or not, you mesmerize me, Brienne. Attraction defies logic."

Jaime huffs in frustration, seeing that she still doesn't trust his words. And why would she? He doesn't know what else to do to convince her, except…

It's a risky move. Reckless. She might punch him for his daring but he doesn't care, he's desperate. Before Brienne can come up with a comeback, Jaime pulls her into his arms, leans himself up on his toes, and kisses her lips. 

He takes advantage of her gasp of shock to deepen the kiss. His tongue darts out, searching for hers, for the taste of her mouth. He moans savoring what for him is manna from the Gods, from the Maiden herself. Jaime tastes the Arbor vintage wine Brienne had at dinner. The culmination of the sweet, rich flavor greets his tastebuds and he finds he can't get enough.

His initial impetus dwindles when noticing Brienne is like a statue in his embrace, tense and unmoving. Regret washes over him. He knew he was breaking boundaries, his advances unwelcomed, and this was likely the result of his actions. Jaime starts pulling away from her, contrite and ready to apologize, when Brienne winds her arms around his neck, yanking him back to her and pressing herself fully against him. 

And she's kissing him back, passionately and hungrily, nibbling his lips, their tongues warring for supremacy, thrusting and parring like swords. Each of them makes a hungry sound. Jaime thought his first attempted kiss was worthy to commit to memory, but this, oh, seven hells! This kiss is like no other he had experienced before. 

Sharp hunger burns through his body, all-consuming and commanding. Unable to help himself, he grabs a handful of her ass and tugs her forward, groaning against her mouth. Brienne responds by biting at his lower lip, then sucking it, their breath mingling.

Much sooner than he'd like, lack of oxygen becomes an issue. Regretfully, they break the kiss, both panting hard.

"Quite a change of heart you had," he teases while laying soft kisses along her jaw. He can't be grateful enough for her turn around, though, and the winning smile on his face reflects that.

"Piss off!" Brienne pushes him away but Jaime holds fast and laughs, managing to keep her in the circle of his arms.

"Oh, come on, wench! Don't be that way with your future husband. Take pity on me."

"I don't understand it. You could have any woman in the world. Seems ridiculous that you get a wife through an arrangement and, much less, someone like me."

Jaime groans. _Silly, stubborn wench!_

"Someone like you is what I want. Three hours ago, I was sulking, dreading this marriage. Now, well, the idea is growing on me, knowing you'll be my wife. And if you're willing, it could be more than an arrangement."

"What do you mean?"

"I want us to know each other. Let's see if we can build up to something more than just a business."

"And if it doesn't work?"

"At least, we tried," he says. Then he gives her a mischievous grin, "It could be a lot of fun."

Brienne chews her lower lip as she ponders his proposal. The gesture could be innocent enough but it ignites Jaime's blood again. He has to steel himself not to pounce on her and take possession of her mouth again.

"Okay, it's a deal," Brienne offers her hand to seal their agreement. 

Jaime watches her for a second, then says, "That's not how I close my deals."

She frowns. "No? Then, how?"

"Like this," he practically growls before kissing her again.


	3. Knight in Shining Armor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne gets the best engagement gift ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for leaving you waiting for this for longer than expected. Hopefully, the fact that it's twice as long as the previous chapters make it for it.

Brienne scowls when she knocks the giant rock of her engagement ring against the edge when she pulls her hand out of her desk drawer. The 2-karat ruby encrusted in a gold ring, surrounded by diamonds is a bit extravagant for her taste and personality but, last night, when Jaime put it on her finger he was so sweet that she doesn't have the heart to take it off. She tells herself that all she needs to do is get used to its presence in her finger lest keep unwittingly hitting it at every turn.

Being honest with herself, she has to admit that this engagement has proved to be different from her past failed attempts. Jaime seems willing to make things work between them. Unexpectedly, he turned out to be a hopeless romantic. Beneath his exuberant flirting, which goes from the cheesiest to the most thoughtful gestures, she has glimpsed what looks like a genuine interest in her. An interest that she finds hard to accept sometimes; she's too biased by her past experiences, and yet, Jaime finds ways to weaken her defenses.

For much Brienne has fought for keeping her guard up the last 3 weeks, she finds falling harder for him every day. She has seen parts of him that she suspects most have not. He's smarter, kinder, and more gallant than he lets on. He hides behind a mask, especially around his family, which sometimes brings out his worst personality traits. It's like there's 2 different Jaimes.

_ Her _ Jaime is exasperatingly charming, and he makes her laugh and blush often. A month ago, she would have scoffed at anyone who had told her she would marry the god-like stranger who seldom missed one of her performances at the museum. The staff likes to call him The Warrior. Brienne disagrees. He is so beautiful with those green eyes, golden tresses, and killer smile that name him The Maiden seems more appropriate.

Up close, his otherworldly aura intensifies. Another reason for which she strives to remain wary of him. Yet, she fails in epic proportions. Being close to him awakes things inside Brienne, strong feelings and wild yearnings that are hard to ignore. One thing is daydream about Jaime as she so often did when he was not more than a stranger and another is being enticed to the point of madness by his mere presence at her side. Jaime makes her do things she never thought she would. He obliterates her inhibitions as no one else has ever had before.

How else she would explain the way she reacted the first time he kissed her? Any other man doing so without her expressed invitation would have gotten not less than a knee to the groin and a fist into his face. But when Jaime surprised her, smacking his lips to hers, her brain short-circuited; it fried her common sense and left her at the mercy of her innermost passions. She never imagined that she would be kissed by that gorgeous man who was her recurrent enraptured audience at the museum and who had been tormenting her dreams for months.

Neither she expected to snap out of her shocked state and yank him back into the kiss when she felt Jaime retreating. In that instant, all she wanted was to taste him, to know how it felt to be desired by a man at least once in her life. Little did she know that she'd become addicted to Jaime's kisses. For his part, Jaime seems all too happy to make out with her at every opportunity they get.

The sense of being wanted remains intact, if anything it has increased exponentially, which helps Brienne better fight her own insecurities, turning a deaf ear to that little voice in her head reminding the never-ending list of her flaws. Instead, she heeds more and more to his praises that Jaime prattles at her nonstop. It's easier to confront her reflection on the mirror when she remembers the heat in the ravenous glances that he roams over her.

"Dammit!" she grumbles, fanning herself with her hand. Thinking of Jaime equals getting hot and bothered. Unfortunately for her, more often than not, her flushed cheeks betray her thoughts. Brienne doesn't have to look herself in the mirror to know her face and neck are just as red as the stone in her finger.

She pushes herself up from her chair and out her office, heading to the staff room for a glass of icy water. That may soothe her overheated system. To her dismay, she crosses paths with Hyle Hunt in the hallway, who is not only a fellow curator but her ex-boyfriend. 

When he sees her walking toward him, he smirks. Some time ago, she would've believed it to be an authentic gesture of affection for her. Now, she sees it for what it is, nothing more than a thin-veiled mocking glee at her expense.

_ Keep walking, just keep walking. _

"So, it's true," he says, pausing in front of her to cut her path.

The last thing Brienne wants is to talk to him about anything personal; as it is, she barely does it for work-related matters. Basic courtesy compels her to reply, though, but she can help using a clipped tone, "What's true?" 

Hyle's gaze shifts for a moment down to her left hand where the ruby is glaringly obvious. "I thought Sansa and Margaery were messing with me when they told me. I guess congratulations are in order. So who is the  _ lucky _ guy?"

"None of your concern," Brienne shoots back, the sneering tone on his words has her on the edge. Making a great effort to not raise to his taunt, she marches on with every intention of leaving Hyle behind and considering the conversation over. Anger about how things ended up between them swells inside her. She can still hear the things he said the day he broke up with her. 

He told her that nobody would marry her unless they were greatly compensated for their troubles of enduring her company. According to Hyle, her single appealing attribute is the fortune her husband would get once he throws his cloak over her shoulders.

_ He's not wrong. Nobody will ever love me.  _ A heartbeat passes and, then, a little voice on the back of her mind kindly says,  _ There could be one person. _

The image of Jaime looking at her with his warm green eyes pops in her head.

The irony of her coming marriage to Jaime as part of a business deal is not lost to her. But unlike Hyle and the ones before him who tried to hide their ulterior motives, Jaime tries hard to build a relationship with her beyond the agreement. In fact, he was adamant in waiting for a few months before going to the sept. Brienne is more than happy about it. Her future husband wants them to know each other before getting married to Tywin's dismay. Her goodfather-to-be would have them married by now if he had gotten his way.

Hyle doesn't take the hint and falls into a step with her. "Look, Brienne," he says in a patronizing tone, as if he was the aggravated party instead of her, "you don't have to be this way. We still can be friends."

She draws herself up short and turns to him, her hands fisted at her side. "No. Don't you dare to turn this on me, Hyle. You were the one who destroyed what we had, you blew up any chance to keep things civil between us thanks to your greed. Don't pretend you care for me because you never did. Stay out of my life!"

Brienne stomps away, her chin up. Hyle makes the mistake of grabbing Brienne's arm to stop her. She cuts a quelling glare at him and pries his fingers off her, roughly. He winces and yelps.

"Don't touch me!"  _ How dare he?! _

Instead of backing off, the idiot adds insult to injury. Hyle glares at her while rubbing his hand and wrist. "You're a fool if you think this guy is marrying you for love," he says in a snide tone. "I told you before; no man will ever love you for anything other than your father's money."

Her jaw clenches tight, her teeth grind together, as she fights the impulse to strangle Hyle with her bare hands. Her murderous impetus is lost the moment she feels the hairs on the back of her neck rise, a sign of awareness that she has experienced only with one person. An instant later, she hears the echo of a confident gait that she has come to recognize in the last three weeks.

Hyle widens his eyes and his jaw drops.

She turns around to see what captured his attention and gasps at the sight of the man who has been in her head all day long being escorted by Podrick, her personal assistant. Jaime's presence is a balm for Brienne. Immediately, her anger and hurt flee from her body, and a small smile breaks across her face. Her heart pounds as he strides straight to her with that swagger of his, which makes her weak in the knees, and his signature smile planted on his lips. Dressed in faded jeans, a green turtle-neck sweater that brings up the color of his eyes, and a black leather jacket, her betrothed is drop-dead gorgeous.

A myriad of emotions rushes through Brienne. Relief, desire, but most of all, happiness at seeing him again. Stopping in front of her, Jaime rakes a hungry look over her body. 

“Hi, sweetling,” he says in a husky, evocative voice. "I was looking for you.”

Brienne allows Jaime to pull her toward him and give her a sizzling hot kiss. Her body explodes like a volcano in response to his tongue tasting hers as he fists a hand against her back. For one second, she forgets where she is and can't help but return the kiss with the same intensity.

Until someone harrumphs nearby.

“Jaime,” she gasps, pulling away as much as his embrace allows her. Her face feels hot enough to radiate steam from her ears. "Not here. I'm at work."

Even as she complains, there's a small part of her that would gladly forget the world and return to taste his lips. He gives her a devilish grin, smug. His green eyes are gentle and alive with mischief and thirst.

"It has been too long since I kissed you last," he says, at a degree from pouting.

"We kissed this morning," Brienne counters, barely able to hide her amusement. The last she needs is encouraging his cockiness.

"That's an eternity, wench. I couldn't wait for another second to taste your lips."

Jaime tries to kiss her again but she keeps him at bay. "You're insufferable. Did you know that?" 

Her chiding lacks conviction even to her own ears, and the corner of her mouth quirks slightly.

Next to them, Pod has the tact to look away in an attempt to give them a-nonexistent-privacy in the hallway. Although, Brienne notices a small, satisfied smile curving his lips. She can tell he's happy for her. He's a good friend.

The same cannot be said of Hyle. At her back, he clears his throat again with an expression of disgust written on his face.

Jaime gives Hyle a snide once-over, and a snarky smile spreads on his lips. It's far from the bright expression that Jaime gives Brienne every time he sees her. Neither is the mischievous tilt of his lips when he's about to say or do something that without a doubt will bring the colors to her face. Rather, it's the kind of cutting grin he uses around his family, a curve of the corners of his mouth of which mirth never reaches his eyes. “Pardon the show, but you really have to love a woman who lives to see you naked.”

Flustering, Brienne glares at Jaime and elbows him on his side for saying that. He managed to avoid the worst of the jab while smirking wider at her, genuinely this time, unconcerned by the threat in her gaze.

"If you excuse us," Jaime says, turning his attention back to Hyle, "My wife-to-be and I need some  _ things _ to discuss, err, in private."

The innuendo is hard to ignore by either Brienne or Hyle. She groans, needing to be alone with Jaime and have words with him.

Her irritation fades away, however, eyeing Hyle as they walk past him. The look on his face is priceless as Jaime directs her back to her office, gracefully walking with his hand placed in the small of her back in a possessive display. The warm touch makes her stomach flutter. Even if the intention for it is for showing only, Brienne can't help feeling that for the first time in her life, a man makes a public claim on her. 

_ If I am his, then he's mine! _

The stingy thought jolts her internally; she has never been of the jealous type, and yet, the mere idea of another woman being with Jaime makes her blood boil with rage. At that uncomfortable reflection and what it could mean, Brienne shrugs out of Jaime's embrace as she walks into her office and over her desk. She settles down on the chair behind it, doing her best to hold onto her indignation and ignore the loss of the tingling feeling that Jaime's touch always elicits in her. She busies herself with the paperwork she has pending for the latest weapon acquisitions the museum did litter on her desk.

"Who's that guy?" Jaime asks as soon as he closes the door of the office behind him. There's an unfamiliar edge in his voice.

"Hyle Hunt," she replies flatly, avoiding to look at him.

"And who's he to  _ you _ ?"

At that, she lifts her gaze and scowls at him. Brienne doesn't know why he's being so insistent. "Nobody. A co-worker."

"Brienne…" Jaime steps closer to her desk, nostrils flaring and his voice sharp. He places a long, flat wooden box on the edge of her desk.

_ What's that and where did it come from? _ She hadn't noticed him carrying it earlier. Her curiosity is thwarted, however, listening to Jaime's next words. He leans forward until captivates her gaze completely.

"No co-worker speaks that way to another."

"You heard?" Brienne chokes out, her eyes going wild and heat engulfing her whole at the embarrassment.

"Not everything but enough to know the guy is a jerk. Who is he?"

Brienne gulps, covers her eyes with a hand, and wishes the earth would split open at her feet and swallowed her whole.  _ Seven, have mercy. _

She startles when Jaime peels her hand off her face with gentleness; she didn't hear him approaching. He lifts her hand to his lips and lays a kiss on her knuckles. The sweet gesture makes her lips twitch. Pushing her chin up with a finger, Jaime locks his emerald gaze to her blue eyes. The tenderness in his makes Brienne to go soft as well.

"What that Kyle guy said…"

"Hyle," she corrects him.

Jaime ignores her. "… is not true. You know that, don't you?"

"I—" she averts her eyes. "I guess."

Jaime grumbles, obviously not satisfied with her uncertain answer. "Wench, not even all the riches of the world can compare to how precious you are. Never think otherwise."

When Jaime says things like that, Brienne can almost believe it, but having heard the opposite her entire life, it's not easy to accept. She knows how ugly, unlovable, and undesirable she truly is.

"You're the only one who thinks that."

"Well, that proves that everyone else is a bunch of idiots. In a way, I'm glad that they are. That means that I can have you uncontested for myself."

Jaime bends over and gives her a kiss on the corner of her mouth. Brienne guesses it means to be chaste, but somehow it makes her burn with desire. She struggles to remain in control of her emotions and not give in. She won't do what Jaime implied to Hyle that they were going to do, but the temptation is great.

"And you can trust me," Jaime whispers in her ear. "All I want is to understand. I know that guy upset you and I'd like to know why?"

He straightens up, and she looks at him in the eyes. The sincerity in them makes Brienne loosen her tongue. Uncertainty gnaws her stomach, but the words tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them, "Hyle is my ex."

Jaime blinks owlishly. "He is what now?"

"My ex-boyfriend. We dated for several moons, two years ago. I broke with him when I realized he didn't love me and all he wanted was my money."

In an instant, Jaime's demeanor changes drastically. His face goes stony and his eyes grow colder than the Land of Always Winter. "He what!? Seven hells, wench, I was right. You did use to hang out with losers."

Brienne scowls at him.

"If you excuse me, I'm going to have a chat with your…  _ co-worker," _ Jaime says through his gritted teeth as he turns away from her.

Brienne is out her seat on the next heartbeat, gripping his shoulder and stopping him dead on his track. "No, you're not!"

"Why not? I'm your future husband. It's only natural that I make acquaintances with the people in your circle of  _ friends. _ I'm a sociable guy and I want to meet new people."

By the nonchalance coloring his voice, she almost could believe his innocent intentions. The rage in his verdant peepers and the somber veil on his face tells a different story. "Since when 'meeting new people' means murdering someone? Because I can tell by your expression that it's what you're going to do. And I don't need you to be my knight in shining armor. I'm not a damsel in distress; I can handle my problems on my own."

Jaime releases a sharp stream of air through his nostrils, frustration and anger rolling off him. "I know you're more than capable of handling your problems, but that doesn't mean I can't lend you a hand once in a while. This is me wanting to be there for you. Besides, that guy deserves to be beaten to the pulp! Believe me, I wanted to push my fist through his face earlier. Almost did. But at that moment, I thought you would appreciate me not making a scene. Right now, I don't care! I'm going to make that jerk swallow his words!"

Brienne is split between irritation at Jaime's macho attitude and happiness for his unexpected support. She can't accept the first, and she won't, but another piece of armor around her heart falls away at the thought of having Jaime in her corner. It feels amazing to know there's at least one person in your life that's willing to fight battles at your side.

She presses her palms against his cheeks so that his face is trapped between her hands. Brienne tilts his head up slightly, so their gazes are at the same level. "I appreciate what you want to do, but it's not necessary. Hyle is not worth the trouble."

Jaime is still seething, for the most part, vibrating with the need to go and find Hyle. Brienne takes another approach to make him desist. "Do you must waste your time on an idiot or do you want to spend it with me? You haven't told me yet why you are here or what's on the box."

Closing his eyes, Jaime takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. With the exhalation, his anger dissipates; his shoulders relax. When he lifts his eyelids, the fire in his eyes is back, and a smug grin splits his face. "Ahh, that's a betrothal gift for you. Well, to be honest, it's a loan." He tilts his head toward the box and urges, "C'mmon! Open it."

"Another gift? You didn't have to. The ring is more than enough."

"You can't fool me, wench. I know you'd rather wear something less flashy or nothing at all but it was a requirement from my father. I pick the battles that I fight and that one wasn't worth my troubles. And I admit that the ring has its uses. Now, everybody knows you are spoken for."

Brienne rolls her eyes.  _ As if I had a mob of suitors waiting for me. It's ridiculous. _ "Do you realize that only the women wearing an engagement ring is one of the many hypocritical things about the patriarchy?"

Jaime raises his hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm well aware and I agree with you. If you want me to wear one too, I'm all for it. We can go to the jewelry store later and buy one. But, first, open the box. This is something I know you'll love."

Amused and curious, Brienne approaches her desk and slides the lid off the box. Her breath catches in her throat, looking inside. "Widow's Wail!" She rounds on Jaime, who is smiling widely. "How? How did you convince your father?"

"Like I said, I know to pick my battles, and the ones I choose to fight, I usually win them. Happy?"

"Yes!" Brienne has the urge to throw herself into Jaime's arms like the dainty woman she is not; he has that effect on her. Demeanors that Brienne thought were forbidden for the likes of her come unbidden and they're harder to repress every day. Now, she controls herself and shortens the distance between her and Jaime, taking slow, measured steps toward him. He welcomes her with open arms. She wraps hers around his neck.

"Thank you, it's the best gift that anyone has ever gotten me." 

She leans down and brushes her lips against his, the first contact is with the lightest pressure imaginable. Then she gets bolder. She sucks first his lower lip, then his upper. Caught in passion, Brienne opens her mouth, and Jaime groans taking advantage of the invitation and meeting her tongue with firm strokes of his own. Unable to help herself, she fists her hand into his hair, holding him still. The more she gives the more he takes.

It would be a blessing to stay like this, in Jaime's arms, kissing him forever, but reality intrudes. The landline in her office rings, startling them. She jumps back, Jaime groans as he does his best to keep her in his arms. Brienne swats at his grabbing hands and escapes him.

Accepting defeat, Jaime sits across her desk. She tries to tune him out as she speaks on the phone, but his intense and hungry gaze makes it a mission impossible. She glowers at him and he smirks.

_ Insufferable man! _

Nobody would deny that he's annoying, gorgeous, or arrogant, but that's not all the picture about him. When he wants to, Jaime shows an endearing sweet quality in the things he does; sometimes, he acts before thinking, which leads him to trouble. Above all that, he is caring. And somehow, beyond all possibilities and hope, he's the man that makes Brienne's heart pump wildly in her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What comes next? The epilogue! But before that, I want to give you a couple of headcanons that didn't make it into the story:
> 
> • They did get an engagement ring for Jaime (platinum with a 2½-karat sapphire of Brienne's exact eye color) and he wears it proudly.
> 
> • Unbeknownst to Brienne, Jaime eventually gets a little payback from Hyle with the help of Pod, Sansa, and Margaery.
> 
> Fun fact: part of this chapter is based on a scene in one of my favorites romance novels. When I was plotting the story, I remember that and I had to use it. It spoke Braime to me, it fits so well for them.


	4. Made for each other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne seal yet another deal with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To err on the side of caution and since I rated this fic as Teen, I probably should warn that this chapter contains mild, nonexplicit sexual content. Just a tiny bit on the scene.

Awareness ripples through Brienne and the hair on the back of her neck stand a moment before a pair of arms wind up around her waist from behind. It follows the prickly sensation of a stubbly chin pressing against her left shoulder. She sighs with content, feeling Jaime's warm body molding around hers.

"Here you are, wench. I was starting to think my wife had abandoned me so soon after the wedding."

Brienne chuckles. _As if that would ever happen._ She takes her vows very seriously and none more than the one she recited a few hours ago. _From this day, until the end of my days._ Her love for Jaime grew and evolved in the months of their betrothal. Something that started as a duty, sprinkled with physical attraction by chance, morphed inexorably into an unstoppable force etched on every inch of her soul. It became an unparalleled devotion, which she cannot live without. 

"I just needed a moment."

Jaime drops his teasing tone and cranks his neck to look her face better. A slight crease appears in his forehead. "You feeling okay?" 

"Yes, I'm fine."

Uttering an unconvinced murmur, Jamie moves his hands to press his palms against her lower belly, splaying his fingers protectively. Brienne looks around to make sure no one can hear their conversation or take notice of the telling gesture. Only early that week, she realized that the queasy feeling that had plagued her of late might not be the nerves about the wedding as she thought, but rather a sign that they had started to enlarge their family much sooner than expected. Despite being caught unaware, both she and Jaime are thrilled about it. They just don't want to make it public knowledge yet. 

Brienne turns her head to watch Jaime's face and reads the unspoken question written in his blazing green eyes. Placing her hands over his, she answers, "I'm good. I'm a little overwhelmed, that's all."

She glances back at where the reception is taking place, a sea of people, talking, drinking, and laughing, fill the room. Most of them are members of her new family. Brienne has never fared well with crowds when the spotlight is on her. Her performances at the museum are an exercise imposed by herself to step out of her comfort zone and work on her stage fright. On those occasions, she uses her knowledge of history and ancient weapons as an armor, a shield to protect herself from what others think about her.

Right now, she lacks that protection. To add to her dismay, her wedding dress makes her feel more vulnerable. She's not one to wear dresses often, usually preferring suits and pants instead. However, she has to admit that the seamstress did a great job to create a gown that enhances her attributes and diminishes her flaws. If anything assured her of its success was the hungry look Jaime gave her as she walked toward him in the sept. That's without mentioning the provocative promises of the things he'd do to her on their wedding night whispered in her ear during the trip from the sept to the reception's location. 

"I warned you that I had a big, loud family," Jaime teases, nuzzling her neck.

Brienne hums, unable to help herself when Jaime licks one of her most sensitive spots. "That, you did," she says breathily, struggling to remember that they're in public. As usual, when Jaime gets affectionate —which is incredibly often—, Brienne becomes ablaze. Fire darts through her body inside out, and desire pools in her belly.

"Let's get out of here," Jaime suggests in a tone an octave lower than normal. The deep rumble of his voice makes her tremble. "I'm bored with the pride of lions. I want to enjoy the rest of the evening only with a married wench."

The plan is more tempting than Brienne cares to admit, it'd be a relief to be alone with her husband. She is at a breath to go along with it but her sense of duty picks the wrong moment to surge up. "We can't," she grumbles. "We haven't cut the cake yet."

As excuses go, that one sounds feeble, even though it's true.

Jaime is hardly deterred. "Who cares about the cake? I crave another kind of dessert and I plan to eat it until I pop. Well, my intention is making _you_ explode, actually."

A flash of Jaime pleasuring her with his face buried between her legs crosses her mind and provokes another scalding wave of heat over Brienne. Her yearning for Jaime's touch increases tenfold and her resolve wavers. He's not playing fair. 

Brienne gasps when she senses her husband sneaking his hands over her body. One goes north, grazing her breasts, her nipples go painfully hard against the fabric of her bodice. Jaime's other hand goes down her stomach, and toward the junction of her legs. She grasps and yanks the wandering hand back up before reaching the destination.

"Have you lost your mind? Our family and friends are right _there!"_ she admonishes at the same time she extricates herself from his arms. As she turns to face him, Jaime smirks, smug. He knows how her body responds to him, and no amount of reprimanding can hide it.

"Come on, wench," he beseeches, approaching her seductively. "You aren't shying away from your wifely duties, are you?"

Nothing short of pathetic is the effort she makes to keep Jaime away, he traps her again in the circle of his arms and lays a trail of kisses along her jaw and cheeks. "I know you want it as much as I do, Bree. Don't deny this to yourself. Let me worship you, let me love you."

And then, he's kissing her in earnest. His mouth on her lips, their tongues doing a familiar dance, both taking and giving. The last traces of determination Brienne possesses crumble away faster than how her heart pounds frantically in her chest.

The salvation —or doom, depending on how you see it— arrives unexpectedly. 

"Hey, lovebirds!"

Brienne pulls away from the kiss abruptly when she recognizes the voice of her goodbrother. With her face burning hotter than the seven hells, she buries it on her husband's shoulder, unable to look at Tyrion. Jaime, on his part, is upset not because he was caught doing something intimate like Brienne is, but because he's forced to stop it. A menacing growl leaves his throat.

"Go away, Tyrion. Can't you see that I'm in deep _conversation_ with my wife?"

"Sorry, brother." Brienne can hear the amused lilt in his voice. "I'm the last person who would interfere with such an intense, er, talk, but your presence is required back in the ballroom. Aunt Gena says it is time to cut the cake. 

"Come on, don't dwindle!" Tyrion says as he walks away, doing a great impression of his aunt's voice.

Jaime groans. "It seems you got it your way, wench." 

Brienne smirks lifting her face off Jaime's shoulder. Jaime's aunt is a force of nature and Jaime knows better than going against the woman's wishes. Gena took the job of overseeing the wedding's preparations with a scary fervor, acting as a mother to both of them. It has been nice for Brienne to count on a woman during this time since her own mother couldn't. She's grateful regardless of how intense Gena got sometimes. 

"We better go in before your aunt comes out and drags us in by our ears," Brienne says.

Jaime grimaces and unconsciously rubs the shell of his ear. Brienne listened to endless stories of Jaime's childhood where Gena pinched the ears of her nephew every time he did mischief. And knowing her husband as Brienne does, she knows it must've been very often. 

"But we make ourselves scarce afterward," Jaime begs her.

"As soon as it's polite."

"Deal," he says, stealing a kiss from her.

That makes Brienne remember the first time they kissed. Little did she know then that she was making the bargain of her life. She never imagined that she would find love in such an unconventional manner. 

It is as if they were made for each other all along, and no matter the circumstances, they were destined to be together. Clichè and all, but true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was it! Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you to the organizers for putting together the exchange. It's been a blast to participate in it. 
> 
> And lastly, but definitely not least, thank you ddagent for the prompts and for the lovely comments you left me. It's encouraging to receive praise from one of the most talented writers in the fandom. I had a lot of fun writing this story and I hope you had, too, reading it.


End file.
